


on the other side (of summer lines)

by sidewinder



Category: Babylon 5
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:49:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27202048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sidewinder/pseuds/sidewinder
Summary: Zack deals with phantoms of his past.
Relationships: Lyta Alexander/Zack Allan
Comments: 4
Kudos: 5
Collections: Fic In A Box





	on the other side (of summer lines)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [flowersforgraves](https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowersforgraves/gifts).



_2262_

It hadn’t been the worst of days, or the most demanding job she’d had to undertake, recently or relatively speaking. Even so, Lyta felt drained and spent of all her reserve energy. Monitoring negotiations involving non-human species always took an extra toll on a telepath, and involved a heightened degree of mental discomfort. Today’s meeting between the Drazi and an Earth-based mining corporation had been no exception.

Indeed, the only alien mind she’d become somewhat comfortable with was the Vorlons. Kosh, in particular, but Kosh was long gone now, not even a piece of him remaining. The rest of the Vorlons were gone, too.

Some days, she wished she’d joined them in leaving the known universe behind. With the things they’d done to her, the ways they’d _changed_ her? She had a hard time feeling at home among her fellow humans any longer—telepaths or normals.

But with the Vorlons’ departure, she was starting to explore the extent of her heightened telepathic powers more than what they had showed her, and what she’d been comfortable testing with them always monitoring her.

Sometimes it scared her, to go too far, too deep. There didn’t seem to be limits—when she pushed herself, she found open doorway after doorway, until she risked becoming lost in her own mind. So she had to measure her strengths and pace herself. Try to get on her feet financially as well as mentally. Get back to routine commercial work now that both the Shadow war and the civil war with Earth were over. And she supposed she should be happy work like that was coming in again. Work that paid the bills, and that didn’t involve political intrigue, conspiracies, fascist government takeovers. No, mundane issues of greed, possessiveness, guilt and attempted trickery were a lot easier to manage.

But still. Drained. Tired. Tired, and...lonely.

Susan had left Babylon 5 as well, and sometimes she’d been able to talk to Susan. Now she felt like she had almost no one left in her corner.

Well, maybe one person, but she didn’t dare let him get too close. Or anyone, to be sure, but a non-telepath with no walls, no blocks, no skills to in any way stand up against her own? Far too risky.

Lyta passed through the Zocalo on her way back to her quarters. Part of her wanted to stop somewhere in the market for a drink to relax, but she was feeling so weary it was hard to keep up all her usual mental blocks to background noise. The low-level din in her head of so many people and aliens, on top of the actual _physical_ noise of it all, was almost too much—and again, there was that fear of pushing too hard against it, that she might accidentally project something she didn’t want to onto the crowd. She had enough supplies in her quarters to make a simple dinner, and a bottle of not great but strong enough wine she could wash it down with. That would have to be enough. Save her some credits while she was at it, too.

But as she neared the end of the marketplace, a strong wave of grief and sadness overpowered her lowered blocks. Someone was hurting, and hurting _bad,_ their emotions so strong she felt compelled to stop, to try locate that individual in case they needed help.

Especially as something about them felt...familiar.

Ah. It figured. It didn’t take her long to locate the source of that sorrow, recognize who it was.

Zack.

She sighed. Of course, the very person she’d been thinking about, and how she couldn’t let him too close.

Zack Allan, sitting alone at a small table, drinking a glass of something bright green by himself. And despite her mental exhaustion and personal warnings otherwise, she couldn’t let him suffer in solitude; not when he had been the only one on station to reach out to comfort her when she’d been at her lowest. He was the only one who didn’t treat her like a “freak” half the time and a useful “tool” to be exploited the rest.

She maneuvered through the congestion to get to his table, gently asking, “Zack?” as she approached.

He looked up, startled for a moment, and then with a touch of embarrassment as he saw who it was. His eyes looked red but if it was from emotion or his own weariness, no one but her could readily tell. “Oh, hey, Lyta.”

“Are you okay? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be prying, but...walking by here I was hit by some...really strong emotions that burst straight through my barriers.” For a telepath, blocking out surrounding noise and thoughts was one of the first skills they had to learn—so as not to go mad from the voices in their head. But as one grew closer to another, it could be harder to keep their unique mental “footprint” silenced, especially when one was tired or spent as she was feeling.

It was one reason why many telepaths avoided close relationships—especially with mundanes who didn’t know how to set up their own mental walls for privacy, not broadcast their thoughts out loud for any teep to hear or feel..

“Yeah, it’s...not been a particularly great day for me.”

“Do you want to, I mean, can I…?” she trailed off, indicating the chair across from his at the table.

“Please,” he said. A waiter came over to their table and Zack said to her, “Whatever you’d like, it’s on me.”

“Oh! Thank you. I’ll have whatever he’s drinking.” Once they were alone again—at least, as alone as they could be in the Zocalo—Lyta asked, “So, what’s wrong?”

Zack sighed. “Ah, some personal stuff. I finally got news from my family back on Earth this afternoon. First communication I’ve been able to get through to them since, Hell, since we broke away.” He paused for a sip of his drink. “Turns out my dad died. About three months ago.”

“Oh no! That’s terrible. Was it sudden, or…?”

“Eh, one of those situations where he knew he was sick for a while and everyone back home knew he was, too, but he refused to see a doctor. He was always stubborn like that. Ended up being liver cancer that had spread way too far before he finally ended up in a hospital, and he refused any potential treatment at that point.”

“I’m so sorry, Zack.”

“Thanks. They can do a lot for cancer these days, y’know, but for a lifelong alcoholic with tons of other problems? Not so much.” He paused, the waiter returning with Lyta’s drink soon afterward.

“So what _is_ this we’re drinking anyway?” she asked, a little dubious—and guessing he could use a distraction from more serious conversation.

“Oh! It’s called Green River—it’s an old fashioned soda from my hometown, Chicago. They almost stopped making it, years ago, but for some reason the Centauri _love_ it. So it got popular enough they ramped up production again to export off-world. Sweet as hell, but it’s a little taste of home. And I suppose now at least I can raise a toast to the old man with someone, now that you’re here.”

Lyta obliged, lifting her glass for the somber tribute. The citrusy drink was sweet, but the sugar gave her a little boost of needed energy. After Zack took a sip, he put down his glass and continued. “It’s funny, we weren’t even that close at all, y’know? Not for a long time. He wasn’t...I can’t lie, he wasn’t a great father. He had his issues. Drinking, like I said. Drinking so bad it ended up killin’ him like my mom always told him it would. But it made him angry a lot, growing up. That’s why I tried to spend as little time as possible at home when I as a kid. Why I got outta town soon as I was old enough to get a job. Or rather, get in the military, then bounce around from job to job for a while. I wasn’t ever any good at keepin’ a position until I finally landed here. I guess because Michael, he’d sort of been through some of the same stuff I had, so he helped get me straightened out. But yeah, my dad’s dead and I didn’t even get to say good-bye.”

That explained why she only ever saw him drinking soda or coffee. She thought she’d sensed some addiction issues from him but had never pried. Everybody had their personal demons. “I never knew my own family very well,” Lyta said, thinking back on her own early years. “I come from a long line of telepaths...sixth generation. Most of us, including me, manifested our abilities at a very early age so we grew up raised by the Psi Corps. My parents were...more like distant relatives who came and visited, now and then, than a real mother and father.”

“No offense, Lyta, but I think I’d rather have had my kind of shitty dad.”

“None taken, believe me.” She hated that she’d had to rejoin the Corps to be able to get commercial work again. Having to wear their badge, in any circumstance, no matter what “promises” came from Bester about her position...it made her feel dirty. She wanted no part of it. But it was either that or starve, get kicked out of her even downgraded quarters. Even end up homeless, in Down Below.

Sometimes she wondered if that would have been the better option, if only to save her soul.

“Well, thanks for letting me talk about him, anyway. Better here than what I might have said if I’d been at his funeral back on Earth.”

“Of course. You’ve been a good friend to me, Zack. I’m happy to be able to return the favor in any way I can.”

Ah. She had made the mistake of uttering the dreaded “f” word. Though a miniscule reaction, she caught it, more off his surface thoughts than his expression. She knew he wished they were more than that, but at the same time he was rather frustratingly too shy to bring it up. Maybe because he knew she would shoot him down, even as gently as she could.

And part of her wondered if she _should_ take the chance, with him. Was she being _too_ cautious? Too afraid to let someone in? She did have feelings for Zack, but the last thing she wanted to do was hurt him, or scare him by exposing what lay beneath her surface.

She was not fully human any longer, after all. She possessed powers strong enough to help drive away and defeat the Shadows. What could her abilities do to an unsuspecting human mind?

“Lyta?”

“What? I’m sorry, I must have zoned out for a minute.”

“You do look tired. How about...want to join me for dinner tonight? Anywhere you’d like in the Zocalo, my treat. In thanks for listening to me ramble, though I warn ya I might go off some more about the maybe-not-so-good-old-days once you get me started.”

The hopeful sparkle in his eyes was infection, tempting. “That’s sweet, but—” she started to turn him down, but then stopped herself. It was nothing but dinner, wasn’t it? No harm there, right? And she wouldn’t mind enjoying those warm blue eyes and rough but handsome features for a while longer. “How about the noodle place? I could use a big, hot bowl of ramen—and it’d be better than the instant noodles I was going to make in my quarters tonight.”

Zack smiled—the first genuine smile she’d seen from him that night, and she knew she’d made the right choice. “To tell the truth, I’ve never been there before, but I’d be glad to give it a try with you! Just help me figure out what to order, ’cause, I'm kinda dumb with stuff like that. If it ain’t meat and potatoes or a good Chicago deep dish...I get pretty lost.”

“I’m sure I can help you make a good choice. Shall we?” she asked, after finishing the last of her drink.

“Right behind you, just gotta pay up here.”

Tired, still, but at least she was no longer feeling lonely. At least not for the rest of this night.

* * *

_2281_

If someone had told Zack that this station was a living, breathing thing, he might have believed them. Stranger things had happened here, to be sure, and these days Babylon 5 seemed to be taking her last, gasping breaths.

She was almost completely empty, save this small, skeleton crew that remained to keep her on life support until the end—which was not far away now. In fact they were awaiting orders for the final ceremony and shut down, likely only days away. The last of the salvage crews had come and gone, carting away anything of value that could of use elsewhere. The corridors were deserted, with even Down Below cleared out of the last refugees and wayward souls stranded for so long here with nowhere else to call home.

That had been one of Zack’s main and final tasks since returning to Babylon 5, several months before. Find anyone remaining in hiding, still lurking in the forgotten places and get them to accept forced transport off station...to where, he hadn’t really questioned. Neither had he pursued some of those lurking too hard, those who seemed to determine to disappear once Babylon 5 was blown into stardust herself. Everyone else? They were all simply _gone_ —the ambassadors and business travelers, the merchants, the soldiers. The seekers. Friends and loved ones, enemies all alike.

And yet, there remained a sense, a spirit, of _something_ about this place. That certain something that had called him back here, left him restless until he’d had to rejoin Earth Force, compelled to be here for the station’s final days. Moments when he felt he could hear them all again, as if right around the corner. His old companions and coworkers, or just the background noise of the crowd in the Zocalo on any given night.

Flashes of life haunting what felt like a ghost ship.

Sometimes he even thought he saw _her_ , from the corner of his eye.

She’d never been easy to miss. He’d never wanted to.

Zack walked through what had once been the Zocalo. Now it was nothing but bandoned merchant stalls, old signs lying haphazardly on the floor, chairs and tables stacked up out of the way. He’d broken up so many fights here in the past—caught shoplifters, hustled drunks away to sleep it off in a holding cell…

...Shared the rare but treasured drink or bite to eat with the woman he’d loved. Before he lost his chance to ask her for more, before she fell in with that rogue telepath Byron, his people, and he lost her for the first time.

And a few years later, found out she was gone for good.

She had actually come to him, that night, in his quarters. At least he chose to believe with all his heart that she had, that it hadn’t simply been a dream. He’d never had dreams like that before, and the coincidence and timing? Too great to put down to chance. But he’d never tell anyone about it, either way.

He’d woken up, suddenly and for no reason, to find his quarters filled with a strange, cool green glow. Blinking against it, his vision had finally focused on her form, seated on the edge of his bed, the glow emanating from her eyes, surrounding her.

Spreading toward him.

_“Lyta…?” he asked in his confusion, half-awake, half-certain he was still sleeping._

_“Hello, Zack.” Her voice, not quite as it should have sounded. Both stronger and seemingly a thousand miles away._

_“How are you...I mean, is this really…?—”_

_“Yes, it’s me. What’s left of me here in this plane of existence, at least. I couldn’t go without saying a proper goodbye to you. I never did that, before, and I’m sorry for that. Sorry for a lot of things. But I was too angry. Not at you, at everything and everyone else.”_

_Zack was confused. He didn’t understand, in his sleep-addled brain, how she was here or what she was trying to tell him. He didn’t interrupt, though, determined to listen, certain this was something he would want to remember._

_She moved a little closer to him, close enough that he could hear and feel a hum of energy surrounding her, a smell like ozone._

_She then turned her head, to the side, as if listening to someone else. Her eyes darkened, the glow changing, as she turned back to him. “They’re calling to me now, so I need to leave soon. I wish we had more time. There’s so much I want to tell you.”_

_“Where are you going?”_

_“Where they’ve all gone, everyone else I’ve ever cared about. Beyond the Rim, wherever that leads. I hope…” she reached to touch his chest and he shuddered at the feeling of it, as if her hand could pass right through him. “I hope I’ll find you there too, some day.”_

_“You were...you are…the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. I love...d you, Lyta,” he said, struggling to say that “d” on the end._

_“I know, Zack. I knew then, too. And some days you were the only bright spark I had left to cling to. But I was afraid getting too close to you, to anyone... fearing I could only hurt them. I just want you to know, I appreciated it. More than I could say at the time, more than you may ever understand.”_

_And she’d leaned in to kiss him, then, the kiss he’d so longed for._

He remembered nothing else of that night, past that kiss, as much as he wished he did.

The next morning he would wake up to the news from back home—a major attack on Psi Corps headquarters on Mars had killed hundreds. Presumed dead, among the chaos and destruction, one of the leaders of the telepath resistance movement.

Lyta Alexander.

It would be the beginning of the end of Psi Corps. Zack knew it was a sacrifice she no doubt made gladly. But he’d always wonder if there might not have been another choice.

Another chance.

Zack’s link chirped, pulling him out of his memories, thoughts and regrets. “Allan here,” he answered.

“Chief, it’s Lieutenant Commander Graves. It...seems we have an unexpected visitor who just came through the jumpgate, requesting permission to dock.”

Zack straightened up, immediately wary. No one came to Babylon 5 these days unexpectedly. Hell, hardly anyone came here at all. “Who is it? Do we know?”

“It’s...John Sheridan.”

“Sheridan?!” _Guess all the phantoms of the past are coming back to this place at last._ “Well, I guess he must’ve heard the station is bein’ shut down for good soon. Better get the Commander on deck. I know he ain’t feelin’ well, but we’ll all be feelin’ worse if he finds out the legendary John Sheridan came here and didn’t get a proper welcome.”

“Will do.”

Zack straightened out his jacket, took one more look around. He wished he could spruce the place up a bit before Sheridan came back through, but there was no time. Babylon 5 was what it was, today. A shadow of the past, full of memories and old ghosts...not so much of a place for the living, any longer.

Only a place for those still haunted by the past.


End file.
